


everything to cry for

by Veletrix



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Title Subject to Change, anna comforts rin bc she needs it dude, just smth short and sweet that i wanted to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 21:04:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15957524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veletrix/pseuds/Veletrix
Summary: Anna finds a lost soul, in pain, and desperate for help.





	everything to cry for

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd?
> 
> no

Anna knew her home as well as she knew the scratches on her axe, as well as she knew where all the paint was chipping off her mask without even looking at it. She knew every sound, every tree, every bush--she can tell when the rain has gotten exponentially lighter or heavier, when something new had wandered in, when something old had wandered out. 

Some new things stayed permanently, like those meat hooks, hanging crookedly every few meters around her home. They’re useful and necessary for the hunt, yes, but they weren’t her’s. Not her’s, not her mother’s, but It’s. She liked her own method of hunting, killing on the spot, swiftly and efficiently, move onto the next prey. It was never her hunt anymore, it was all It’s. But, it was the only hunt she was getting, so she accepted it.

She wandered through her forest, picking up stray hatchets, ones that she had thrown during the last hunt. Some were lodged in trees and posts, others were on glinting on the ground, bloodied, evident that they had fallen--or been pulled--out of shoulders and calves. 

She nears her hut where she keeps the freshest meat warm and dry, and when she does, she hears moaning.

If one were unaccustomed to the realm, to the sounds, they would not have heard the muffled cries past the rain and rustling leaves. But Anna heard.

She enters the hut, and on the other side of the fire pit, there is a girl with skin the same pale blue as the dress on one of the children’s dolls Anna keeps back at the cottage. Her limbs are floating jankly, and her hair weaves through the smoke and around the hanging carcasses, black as the night sky. Her dirty, glass bitten hands press against her face, and she is crying pitifully. The girl was too long-limbed and too well-formed to be a child, and Anna would normally take an aggressive stance against an obvious trespasser, but instead her heart twists horribly in her chest.

Anna circumnavigates the fire pit, and crouches next to the crying girl. She doesn’t touch her, but her hand hovers over the shoulder that doesn’t have glass piercing through it. She coos quietly, “ _Shh, little one, don’t cry, let me help you._ ”

Through the sobs, Anna thinks she hears the girl choke something out, but it was in a language she couldn’t understand (or maybe it was just gibberish).

Anna cautiously places her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “ _Little bird, don’t worry, I can help you, please,_ ” Anna takes note of the girl’s lack of proper clothing--just bandages and dried blood. In the cold rain, no wonder she came to the fire. “ _I have warm clothes and a bed at my home. Please come with me, little one._ ”

The girl gives no indication of moving, or quieting down, or even of understanding Anna. Regardless, Anna was not going to let this poor girl suffer on her own, no matter what.

So, she moves to collect the girl in her arms, and this brings about a proper reaction: the girl shrieks, and contorts in Anna’s grip. She twists her limbs in horrific angles, and Anna can hear her joints cracking loudly, the thrashing causing the glass in her skin to cut Anna’s own hands. It takes her a good minute to move past the pain and get a good grip, speaking a soothingly as she can. When the girl reaches up to swipe at Anna’s face, blue veins bulging, Anna grasped the hand, and began to hum her mother’s favorite lullaby. This manages to calm the girl down, tears still streaking down her ashen face, but no longer screaming and writhing. Anna is grateful for her mother’s teachings in times like this.  
She carries the girl back to her cottage, bridal style, keeping her close to her warm chest, and bowing her head to try and block out some of the rain. 

They get to the cottage, and the girl mumbles something when they enter, noticing the lack of rain.

Anna takes her to her bed--nothing more than hay and blankets piled in a corner on the first floor--and tucks her in. She even takes a moment to pick up one of her thicker, woolen coats, the one with red plaid and beige trimmings, and uses it as another thick blanket. The girl lets out a low whine, still in pain, still in need to help.

Soothingly, Anna continues to hum, and briefly runs her fingers softly through the girl’s thick hair. She waited for her cries, cutting through the hollow home, to finally subside. 

It takes a good few minutes, but Anna is patient, and when they finally do, she shifts the blankets, and places a basket nearby. Then, gently as she can, she began to pick the glass out of the girl’s skin. They ranged from small pinpricks to large slabs that reminded Anna of the shanks her prey used to make her drop them. The girl was letting out a low, continuous whine, like a cat, and her body jittered every few minutes or so. For the most part, though, she didn’t fight against Anna.

When Anna grasped a particularly large chunk lodged in her blue shoulder, though, she lashed out, shrieking, raking her broken nails across Anna’s arms and chest. Anna briefly let go of the glass to grasp the girl’s wrists, gently but firmly pushing them away while cooing as softly as she can. “ _I’m sorry, little one, but I have to do this. I’m helping you, don’t worry, the pain will go away soon, just be brave for me._ ”

After a few moments, with Anna stroking the girl’s inner wrists with her thumbs, she calmed back down. Making sure to keep a reassuring touch, Anna once again gripped the piece of glass, and pulled it out in one firm tug. The girl gave a small noise of discomfort, but didn’t attack her again, so Anna continued with the rest of the pieces.

Soon she had a full basket of bloody glass, and Anna moved to replace it was a bowl of rain water and a clean rag. In between the swap, she also lit the fireplace nearby, letting it crackle as she began to wash the girl’s face free of dirt and blood. It was with the same strong strokes that her mother did whenever she got too dirty as a child. It was always uncomfortable and took ages for her energetic, childish self, but it was an act of love that she couldn’t help but feel excitement to reenact in tribute. (The girl in her hands certainly was no child, but Anna could feel herself loving her regardless). She felt like a real mother doing this, finally, everything that she craved was here, and it was cupped in between her rough hands.

Eventually, she was satisfied with what she could wash off, and replaced the bowl and dirty rag on the oaken table in the middle of the cottage. She picked up one of her thicker winter coats--the plaid-patterned one, with woolen trimmings--and wrapped it properly around the girl. Then she settled herself against the wall, close to the fire, and pulled a blanket around herself before pulling the girl into her lap. 

She removed her own mask, and leaned comfortably against the heat, picking her singing back up. Whether the girl would ever fall asleep didn’t matter to her, she was calm, and warm, and safe, and Anna had never felt more content since coming to this new realm.

“ _Thank you, little bird._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this instead of doin my hw lol


End file.
